


No More Surprises

by Elvenbeard



Series: The many oneshots and drabbles featuring Tamlen Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Developing Friendships, Dragon Age Headcanons, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Light Angst, Skyhold (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28593645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvenbeard/pseuds/Elvenbeard
Summary: The Inquisition has arrived in Skyhold, but the fortress is still in need of many repairs. Tamlen struggles to cope with his new title and responsibilities, but it's not all that's on his mind... It's his birthday soon.
Series: The many oneshots and drabbles featuring Tamlen Lavellan [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1297577
Kudos: 4
Collections: Genuary 2021





	No More Surprises

The noise of construction work echoed far across the courtyard and Skyhold’s surrounding mountains. Hammers hit nails, wood, and stone into place, saws cut huge logs into manageable size, and supervisors barked orders at workers balancing heavy loads of tiles and rope on high scaffolding. 

Soldiers on the battlements were looking with worry at the dark clouds approaching in the distance, their companions on the long bridge leading to the fortress busy clearing the last night’s snowfall off of it. In a harsh contrast to the ice-covered mountainsides and knee-deep snow on the bridge, within its walls nothing hinted at this being the middle of winter. There was a thin white blanket on the tallest towers’ roofs, and occasionally a snowflake danced through the open windows of the tavern. But the trees and bushes in the overgrown gardens were sprouting downright rampant, as if it were spring already, birds and a couple of small insects filled the air. It was warm enough even to stay outside without a jacket for a few minutes before it grew too cold.

Tamlen had spent the majority of his winters in Antiva, where even during the coldest, darkest months there was barely any snow. A main exception had been the Arlathvhen he had attended as a young boy. He did not like the cold and had not been too excited at the prospect of spending the next weeks in a forgotten fortress in the Frostback Mountains. Yet Skyhold’s strange, ancient magic that even Solas seemed to have found no explanation for yet, had surprised them all positively, offering the Inquisition not only shelter but warmth and a long-term place to stay. 

He was sitting by a window on the second floor of the so far unnamed tavern in the heart of the fortresses’ courtyard. Flissa had been offered to take over after losing her tavern in Haven but declined politely in favour of pledging herself to the Chantry. A new bartender had yet to be found. Still, as the repairs on the castle continued, many of its roofs leaking, walls crumbling, certain wings even in danger of collapsing, the tavern and a couple of surrounding barracks were currently the most frequented locations of Skyhold. 

The cup of tea in front of Tamlen had long turned cold in the process of him trying to focus on a book. It did not revolve around difficult topics, but still the lines could not hold his attention. His thoughts kept drifting off. As he re-read the same paragraph for the fourth or fifth time someone approached his small corner table.

“Mind some company?” asked Varric, carrying a bowl of soup and half a loaf of bread. Tamlen looked out of the window, seeing the sun high in the sky already, and as he looked around the tavern it was growing fuller by the minute.

“No, not at all,” he said, pushing out one of the other chairs with his foot and Varric sat down.

“Maker, I swear, this Maryden needs to work on her rhymes,” Varric began to complain as he dipped a big chunk of soft, still-warm bread into the stew, scooping up carrots and mushrooms, “I’m clearly no poet… but after sitting next to her for five minutes even my aspirations to ever become one died.”

Tamlen grinned.

“I don’t know, some of her songs are rather catchy.”

Varric scoffed and turned to his stew again. Tamlen stared down at the book in front of him, but after reading the first sentence on the page for the sixth time he sighed and closed it. Varric looked up from his bowl, swallowing a too sizeable chunk of bread too hastily and coughing a little.

“I hope I’m not keeping you from reading?” he asked apologetically.

“No, no, don’t worry,” Tamlen quickly shook his head, “I can’t seem to focus on it anyway.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, Freckles,” Varric said, “You’ve had a lot on your plate lately. The Inquisitor stuff and such...”

“Don’t remind me,” Tamlen sighed, “But admittedly, that’s not the only thing.”

Varric raised his eyebrows and Tamlen hesitated. He took a sip of cold tea from his cup, flinching a little, as he tried to arrange the words in his head in a manner to not sound too pathetic. Varric had been one of only a few of his current travel companions that he felt like he could confide in. Varric had always treated him with respect and at one point expressed that he felt just as much as an outsider more or less forced to be here as Tamlen had. He took a deep breath before looking up at Varric again.

“Did I tell you that it’s my birthday next Wednesday?”, Tamlen asked.

“Huh,” Varric said, a little bit of tenseness falling from his shoulders but his eyes narrowing, “No, I think you skipped that part in your biography.”

Tamlen chuckled.

“My bad, you’re right.”

He bit his lip, almost regretting to have brought it up at all, but Varric inquired further.

“Do the Dalish usually celebrate their birthdays in a special manner? I once knew a Dalish girl, but she never brought it up… and I guess I also never asked.”

“It probably differs from clan to clan,” Tamlen admittedly didn’t know for sure, “Don’t dwarves celebrate their birthdays?”

“This dwarf doesn’t, at least,” Varric said, tossing his last piece of bread into the almost empty stew bowl and letting it soak up the remains, “But I’m not exactly a prime example of my kind.”  
“My clan usually did,” Tamlen further explained, “In a ‘you survived another year in a world that’s against our way of life, congrats!’ kind of way. That sounded… a lot less depressing in my head.”  
Varric laughed.

“Doesn’t it always? But joke aside, I understand what you mean. Considering how much more the world has been against us the past months that sounds like a huge celebration is necessary?”

Tamlen quickly shook his head.

“No, please don’t, I’m done with huge celebrations for a while. Especially the surprise kind of ones.”

There was a short pause and Tamlen picked up his teacup again, swirling its contents around in it and avoiding eye contact with Varric.

“I guess… long before this all started, I thought I’d long be back home by now. The plan was to meet up with my clan near Wycome in autumn, or should there have been delays, near Ansburg before the onset of winter. And now my birthday will come and go, and I don’t even know if I will get to spend another with my family anytime soon… Or at all.”

He winced at his own words. Not daring to look up at Varric he quietly apologized.

“I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to burden you with this, Varric. You’ve been a good friend.”

“Don’t be silly, you’re not burdening me with anything,” said Varric calmly, “I’m not a good advice giver on these matters, but if anything, I’m a good listener. It’s what friends are for, I’ve been told.”

Tamlen looked up from his cup sheepishly and smiled. Before either of them could say anything else though, Tamlen spotted a messenger headed straight towards their table.

“Lady Montilyet sent for you, Inquisitor,” she said and Tamlen cringed at the mention of the title. 

“Yes, I’m coming.”

The messenger waited politely as Tamlen picked up his book and cup and nodded towards Varric as he left, Varric reciprocating the gesture. On the way to Josephine’s makeshift office in the barracks next door Tamlen could not help but wish to have kept his worries to himself.

***

Over the course of the following week, construction work around Skyhold still in full swing, Tamlen’s opinion was required in more situations than he could have ever anticipated in the moment Cassandra suggested him as their Inquisitor. There were pressing matters to be dealt with, like securing the food supply and trade routes to and from Skyhold, but also a couple of requests that struck Tamlen as… odder than others. One day for example Josephine approached with an array of servants carrying about a dozen samples of fabric, and he was supposed to choose the ones he liked best for banners to be put up in the main hall.

On the following afternoon, while Tamlen spent a few hours of downtime with Varric, Dorian, and Sera in the tavern, Blackwall approached with several sketches of hallas, asking his opinion about the details on their horns. As he examined the drawings, he missed an intense exchange of stares between Varric and Blackwall.

A few days later followed a conversation with Dorian taking an unexpected turn to Tevinter bathhouse culture and a strangely detour to the kinds of soaps most popular during the last time Dorian visited one.  
By the time Wednesday, the sixth of Wintermarch had arrived though, these occasional weird encounters had been quickly swept from his thoughts by a multitude of other tasks and problems he had to solve. He could no longer count the conversations he had led with his advisors, the construction workers, and visitors of the fortress, or the abundance of letters he had to write, read, or simply sign over a very short amount of time. Any suspicions he might have had about something odd going on directly under his nose was not at the forefront of his mind when he awoke that morning, a little later than he usually would have wanted to. When reality hit him with the fact that his birthday had come now and would pass like any other day so far spent at Skyhold, he wanted to get up even less. Only his rumbling stomach finally convinced him to at least have breakfast before the Inquisitor-madness continued. He got up, ready, and left the barracks to head to Skyhold castle’s main hall. 

As of last Monday, it no longer had a leaky roof or occasionally rocks falling down from the walls, with construction work here finally finished. Instead of in the tavern the kitchen staff could serve proper breakfast and dinner for the Inquisition in the main hall now, instead of dispersing it across the various barracks every day. The tavern alone had not been big enough to serve everyone at once with their comparatively small kitchen and supplies.  
The breakfast table usually frequented by Tamlen’s companions though was suspiciously empty this morning. He was up a little later than usual, but at the very least Dorian, Solas, or Sera, maybe even Cullen, Bull, or Cassandra would still be here around this time. Instead, the only one who greeted him was Varric.

“Good Morning!” he smiled brightly.

“Good Morning…” Tamlen replied slowly, “Where are the others?”

Varric looked around as if he did not understand what Tamlen was talking about, and Tamlen narrowed his eyes.

“Strange, I have no idea! I didn’t even notice something was off until now,” Varric lied horribly. 

“Yes, the arguments about mages, templars, Orlais, Tevinter, elves, dwarves, the Qun, the Maker, Andraste, and everything else usually going on here are really easy to miss.”

Tamlen sat down reluctantly, looking over his shoulder a couple of times as he poured himself some tea and placed a fresh baked bread roll, a couple of slices of cheese, and a hard-boiled egg on his plate. Varric, while occasionally taking a sip from his mug, was reading through various letters and papers he had sprawled across his side of the breakfast table. He was sitting opposed to Tamlen, and Tamlen could have sworn that every once in a while, he caught Varric just staring at him over the edge of the papers before quickly averting his eyes. It was the most awkward and silent breakfast Tamlen had since the early days of Haven. Coincidentally, the moment he had finished his tea Varric put down his reading materials. 

“Freckles, I just remembered I wanted to show you something, do you have a moment?” he asked.

Tamlen frowned.

“And if I don’t?”

“Hmmm,” Varric hummed, “I’d say you’d regret that!”

“Fine then, go ahead,” Tamlen said, “But if anyone jumps out at me yelling ‘surprise’ and handing me another sword or mountain of responsibility I’ll blame you for it!”

Varric laughed and said “Well, you’ll have to find out for yourself!”

A few minutes later they were climbing the stairs of Skyhold castle’s main tower. The area was busy with workers setting up scaffolding and transporting building materials to and from the many chambers lying within the tower. With the repairs in the main hall finished, the tower was now the next priority, as it was soon supposed to house not only guests of the Inquisition but also a couple of Tamlen’s companions who also still stayed in the barracks. He actually did not mind the communal sleeping quarters as much as some of the others. On the other hand, it would be nice to have a small quiet, private space in the tower at some point to get away from the crowds and noise, at least for a while at a time.

“I’m definitely taking the room at the very bottom,” Varric huffed as they were getting closer to the top of the tower, “I hope they’re done with the repairs soon.”

“Varric, what are we even doing here?” Tamlen asked as he watched Varric struggle to get up the steps not quite made for dwarven legs, “I feel like we’re only getting in the way.”

He pushed himself against the wall as two workers carrying a wooden beam around a narrow corner, passing them on the way up.

Varric only waved his hand in response.

“Can’t talk, no air.”

Then they finally reached the door leading into the chamber at the very top of the tower. Varric, still in the lead, opened it but then let Tamlen go in first. Tamlen hesitated, but then slowly walked towards the final set of stairs that led up into the main portion of the room. Unlike he had anticipated, they were greeted by the sound of a crackling fireplace. During the first inspection of the castle, the last time he had been up here, this room had been in a desolate state. Several windows in had been broken and the roof framework was inhabited by birds. It had been cold and windy, and while Skyhold’s magic seemed to have prevented from freezing over the floors and walls, it had been far away from pleasant here. While he could not see into the room from where he stood Tamlen could already tell that a lot had changed. Formerly broken windows were repaired, and the birds’ nests above were gone. Before he reached the top of the stairs and managed to get a better view of the room though, Sera suddenly jumped out from behind the balustrade framing the stairwell.

“Surpriiise!” she yelled and cackled loudly when several annoyed groans followed in response from somewhere behind her. 

“Yes, you can blame me for that,” Varric wheezed, still at the bottom of the stairs behind Tamlen.

Sera poked her tongue out and snarled: “You’ll live.”

She stepped back to make room for Tamlen as he reached the top of the stairs and turned to the left, looking into a quite different chamber than how he remembered it. All his companions were here, greeting him with warm smiles and a couple of “good morning” and “happy birthday” wishes. Dorian and Vivienne were sitting on a sofa immediately to his left, placed against the balustrade above the stairs. In a corner of the room there was a large desk and bookcases, around which Solas, Cole, Leliana, Josephine and Blackwall stood assembled. In the centre of the room, between a big, comfortable looking bed and the lit fireplace, stood Cullen, The Iron Bull, and Cassandra.

“That at least explains the empty breakfast table,” Tamlen remarked, trying to take in the room but also noticing his legs not quite obeying him about moving any further from where he was standing. It was not the worst kind of surprise he had had in a while, but still he did not handle it as well as he would have wanted.

“Come on in already, we put in so much work to keep this secret,” Sera chided him, grabbing his sleeve, “Now you at least gotta do us the favour to properly look at everything.”

She dragged him away from the stairs towards the others. Cullen cleared his throat, stepping forward as if to give a report to a superior in his usual, slightly stiff, and soldier-like manner.

“I’ve tasked some of my best men with overseeing the necessary repairs and clean up, but should you find anything lacking, don’t hesitate to let me know and we’ll be making the necessary amendments right away.”

“What Cullen is trying to say”, Bull said, placing a hand on Cullen’s shoulder, “Is that we hope you’ll like it here. My Chargers helped move away some of the debris and carried up the furniture Lady Josephine picked out for you. It was not an easy task on those narrow stairs, mind you, but we managed to not break anything.”

“Wait,” Tamlen said, only now fully realizing what was going on, “You’re saying… these are my quarters?”

“If you want them, yes,” Varric chimed in from behind him. He had now also arrived at the top of the stairs, after taking a little break by the door.

“After our little conversation last week I thought, if you can’t be home for your birthday, maybe there is a way to make you feel at least a little more at home here in the meantime. So, I asked around for some help from these fine people here and this is what we came up with.”

Tamlen was struggling for words to express his gratitude for this gesture. Having this place to retreat to, probably the furthest away from the noise of the main hall with its politics and planning, with an incredibly beautiful view across the Frostbacks was more than he could reasonable have asked for. The cherry on top was to hear that his companions had even set aside their differences to work on this together.

“You all know I’m not good with speeches,” he said eventually, “So I’ll just say thank you. This means a lot, it really does.”

“I’d say that calls for a toast, doesn’t it?”, Dorian said, reaching for a bottle of wine that had been sitting on a side table next to the sofa. This immediately earned him a glare from Cassandra.

“Isn’t it a little early for wine?”

“You sure are fun at parties, aren’t you?”

“No, first we look at everything, then we get drunk!” Sera insisted.

The assembled companions gathered around and showed Tamlen in detail what every one of them had contributed to the room, after Cullen and Bull and his Chargers had set it up for them. Solas had painted a large mural onto the wall above the bed, an artistic rendition of Skyhold framed by mountains, flowers, trees, and the symbol of the Inquisition. 

“I also acted as an advisor to the workers who restored the broken stained-glass windows to their old glory,” he explained, “It was a challenge to find the correct matching colours and the right materials to use, but it was worth the effort I would say.” Tamlen agreed, admiring the colourful leaves and vines surrounding the room and casting colourful speckles of light on the floor.

Josephine had picked out the furniture as Bull had noted, and Tamlen also recognized the fabrics used for decorative pillows and the bedding. It was the same she had presented him with the other day, his chosen favourites.

Almost all of his companions had contributed something to fill the bookshelves in the corner of the room where the desk was situated. Tamlen recognized many of the novels he had read as a child, which he had talked about to Varric before. Dorian and Solas had contributed works on history and magic, while Vivienne and Leliana had supplied assorted treatises on Orlesian politics and society and how to survive in it as an outsider, which would definitely help Tamlen prepare for the tasks ahead. 

Vivienne also had a small extra gift for Tamlen: high-quality paper and writing utensils, to leave a good impression with important letters. In a quiet moment, when the others were distracted, Leliana also pointed out a hidden compartment in his desk, to hide whatever was not intended to be seen by other eyes than his.

Cassandra had arranged to set up not only a workstation for armour and weapon repairs in one of the small rooms adjacent to the main area of the chamber, but also storage space for Tamlen’s weapons and armour. There was a wall-rack to display his growing collection of daggers, an armour stand, a nice wooden chest, as well as a travel sized kit to bring along the most essential repair tools and extra weapons. It was an immensely practical gift and area Tamlen would probably spend a lot of time in, so he thanked Cassandra profusely for the thought she put into this.

Dorian then took him to the other side room, where a washroom had been set up, even including a tub and a small stash of various soaps featuring Tamlen’s favourite herbs and flowers. Dorian had commissioned them from the alchemist. 

“After all, Varric said we should help make you feel at home, and I think scents can play a huge part in feeling comfortable,” Dorian explained.

“That’s very true,” Tamlen agreed and he could not help but sniff all the various soaps and oils taking him back to happy childhood memories and places he visited a long time ago.

Sera then barged into the room, making a snide remark about Dorian walking off with Tamlen like that and how he could not just keep him for himself the entire day. Tamlen was glad that Sera took him outside to the balcony, because only the icy wind could have managed to cool down his flushed cheeks and ears at that point. She made sure no one was looking when she pulled a sturdy corded ladder from behind an empty planter at the side of the balcony, calling it a “secret escape route”. Tamlen laughed at first but actually was rather fond of the idea. 

“In case the whole place lights up on fire, you want to get out here as quickly as possible, not run down a million steps and stumble over Varric on the way,” she explains, “Or in case some disgusting noble arse bothers you, you can literally jump out of the window and they’ll never know where you went to!”

The ladder was long enough to reach down to the battlements below, or alternatively a lower roof from which, a little bit of sliding and climbing involved, Tamlen could even get to the gardens without having to walk through the main hall of the castle. Right as Sera put away the corded ladder again and turned to go back inside, she shrieked. Cole stood right behind them. Sera left quietly cursing, but Cole pointed to the framework of the roof above.  
“We gave them a new home,” Cole said and Tamlen saw the birds’ nests that had previously been inside the tower. It was far up enough for the birds to not be bothered and feel safe, but close enough to watch and study them. He thanked Cole for making sure the birds were safe, and Cole lowered his head, Tamlen believing to see a hint of a smile on the young man’s lips.

Back inside Tamlen was then greeted by Blackwall standing by the fireplace. This is when he recognized the figurine sitting on the mantle. It was a halla, carved from bright wood, and it closely resembled the sketch Blackwall had shown him a few days prior.

“That’s fantastic Blackwall,” Tamlen said in awe, “I can’t believe you made something like that in such a short time!”

“Thank you,” Blackwall said almost solemnly, “I’m glad you like it. Varric was not impressed when I almost spoiled the surprise, but it was the right decision to ask you about it to make sure it was accurate.”  
Even if it had not been, Tamlen would still have been impressed by Blackwall’s attention to detail and skill with his carving tools.

“I will cherish this, thank you so much,” he said, carefully tracing the carving marks and other delicate details of the halla.

After looking at everything his companions and advisors had created for him in this space, their casual get-together lasted for another couple of hours of conversation, sharing stories, and maybe a little bit of arguing. It was not all that different from what Tamlen’s birthday celebration would have been like with his clan. When this realization struck him, combined with all that this colourful group of people had done for him not only this past week, but ever since this journey began, he for the first time in a long time began to feel like he was at home.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally an idea for a small comic I never got to make - so I at least wanted to write it down as a drabble that turned out much longer than originally planned!  
> It's exactly 6 years since I first played Inquisition, hence the 6th of January/Wintermarch ending up being Tamlen's birthday.
> 
> I would love to hear headcanons about your Inquisitors and how they celebrate their birthdays, if at all and if not, why! And if you find any spelling or grammatical errors in this, let me know so I can fix them later xD


End file.
